No Use Crying
by Pen Liddin
Summary: Jack squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could, breathing in short gasps in a panic to repress the memories before they assaulted him. Has all the characters, but it's mostly about Jack.
1. Save me

**Sorry if the beginning's confusing. Jack's confused, so you're confused. :P**

**Disclaimer- I'm not one for repetitiveness, so this will be my only disclaimer throughout the story. Just keep in mind I don't own anything and never will. **

**Each chapter is a song, try listening to them while reading if you want.**

**Save me- Jem**

The second Jack realized what he had done; he'd bolted from that house as fast as he could, slammed the door, and never looked back. Now, after running about three blocks, Jack sat huddled beside a telephone booth shaking, trying to protect himself from the wind.

There was no way he was going back to that house. The instant Mr. Parades had stepped through the front door; Jack knew what was going to happen. He'd been through the situation too often, each time trying to suppress the memory further, only to have it ripped back into plain view again in a week or so.

Jack entwined his fingers into his messy blonde hair and let out a small whimper, as he laid his head into his knees and tried to blank out all of his thoughts. He couldn't help but keep the gruff voice of his foster father from entering his mind, and all to soon, the afternoon's events came rushing before him all at once. Jack squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could, breathing in tight, short gasps in a panic to repress the memories before they assaulted him.

He could feel the sweat running down from his forehead as he whipped his head around frantically, trying desperately to find an exit. Despite the heat of the house, Jack couldn't stop shaking as he backed himself slowly into the corner, avoiding looking into the eyes of Mr. Parades. Pain. He suddenly felt pain in his cheekbone, and then again in his left eye, as he was knocked down onto his back. Jack knew what came next. He squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could, trying to block out everything that was happening, and held his breath.

"Look at me."

Hesitantly, Jack opened his eyes just long enough to lock with his foster father, before he was hit again on the left side of his face, knocking his head to the right, just enough so the coffee table was in plain view. Before Jack had time to think it over, he pulled his legs back and kicked Mr. Parades, who was now kneeling in front of him, in the chest, knocking the older man backwards. He then stumbled over to the coffee table and grabbed the gun, pointing it at Mr. Parades before the man had time to react.

Jack could feel his heart hammering against his chest as he tightened his grip on the gun, his index finger gripping the trigger angrily. Jack placed his other hand on the gun, for fear of dropping it he was shaking so badly.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?"

The piercing sound of a gunshot rang in Jack's ears, as he struggled to stand up. Someone was shaking him gently, and when he opened his eyes he was surrounded. He was backed up against a telephone booth, and there were three tough looking kids blocking his only exit.

One of them looked at him strangely before asking if he was alright, and Jack panicked. He kicked the smallest one in the balls, pushed past him, and tried to sprint away down the street.

Before Jack could escape however, he felt a strong pair of hands grab him around the waist and yank him back roughly towards his two other friends, one of which was still crouched over in pain. Jack hissed in pain from being grabbed around the waist and began to twist viciously, punch, and kick, to get out of his captor's hold, but whoever it was wasn't about to let go.

"Kid will you cut it out, I'm not going to hurt you!" The person yelled. He had managed to pin both Jack's arms at his side and hold him up in the air so that both his legs were swinging wildly around.

After a few minutes of this Jack went limp. He remembered that the more he struggled the worse he usually got it.

"What's your name?" The one holding him asked. Jack set his jaw and stared intently at the ground.

"C'mon Bobby let's just leave him, we got to meet Kas in like, 5 minutes." The smallest one said. Bobby just laughed.

"Charlie, you're just mad cause he kicked you in the nads." When Bobby said this, Jack lost his staring contest with the ground and glanced up fearfully at Charlie, trying to see how mad he really was.

"Where are you sleeping tonight kid?" Bobby asked, trying to make eye contact with Jack, who was staring at the ground again. Jack just shrugged his shoulders, and tried to get away again, but Bobby held him back.

"How old are you?" He asked, not exactly expecting an answer.

"Thirteen." Jack replied, causing Bobby to glance up at his two friends.

"Oh, so he does talk then!" He exclaimed in mock surprise, receiving a death glare from Jack. "May I ask what a thirteen year old is doing in these parts of Detroit, at, what is it? Almost ten, by himself?" He asked.

"No." Jack replied.

"You know what guys?" Bobby continued, "I think I'm finally gonna listen to Ma. She's always bringing these street kids home; I'd be makin' her proud."

Charlie was staring at Bobby in disbelief. "What the hell Bobby! You gonna pass up meeting KAS of all people so you can bring a random piece of shit punk home to take care of? Where is this cumin' from? It's not like this kinda thing don't happen often, this is Detroit man. C'mon we gotta go, we're probably late already no thanks to this crap."

"Hell no dumbass." Bobby replied, rolling his eyes. "Damn you're thick. See this?" He said, pointing to the phone booth Jack had cornered himself in before. "It's called a t-e-l-e-p-h-o-n-e. We sometimes use it to talk with people, who are in different vicinity than us. Yo Jeff, got a quarter?" He asked the third kid, who nodded and tossed one over.

Bobby dialed his number, and waited a few seconds before speaking to someone. "It's me. No Ma, I'm calling from a payphone. There's a kid here, thought you might wanna pick him up." He looked at Jack, "Name?" He asked again. Jack wasn't stupid, and he sure as hell wasn't going with whoever this woman was, so he decided to lie.

"Ryan" Jack answered.

"K yeah, we're on... Kidegar you know, the street near the grocery store, his name's Ryan. I gotta go. No I won't. Yeah I will. Just business, you know how it is Ma. K, I'll tell him. Bye."

"Alright Bobby, you've wasted ten minutes, can we go now?" Charlie asked impatiently. Bobby ignored him and turned to Jack, who ducked his head and set his jaw immediately.

"Look, Ryan, we gotta go, just wait here okay? Don't move, my Ma's gonna come pick you up." Jack nodded his head, and let his shoulders relax when the three boys turned and walked away.

As soon as the distraction they had offered him had left, Jack began to get nervous again. He didn't know where he was, he didn't have any money, he was freezing, and he probably had the cops out looking for him right now. Jack shivered, and pulled his black hoodie closer around his body, he had no idea what to do. One thing was for sure though, this Bobby kid's Mom wasn't actually going to come pick him up. Jack squinted through the dark, trying to see if there was anywhere he could spend the night. There was no way he was going back to that house. How long had he been sitting next to the phone booth? It hadn't been this dark when he'd run away had it?

Jack let out a frustrated sigh and began to walk across the street to the empty park he'd spotted. Man, this place really was deserted. Jack stopped when he reached the park, and gazed around for somewhere dry, settling for a red tunnel. Although it was in plain view of the street, which probably wasn't very smart, it was the only thing that had any sort of roof. Jack brought his arms inside his sweater, and tried to stop himself from shaking from the cold. It's not like he hadn't slept in the streets before.

The thirteen year old shifted uncomfortably in the tunnel as he tried to find an acceptable sleeping position, and eventually tried to close his eyes.

He could feel his hands shaking, as he struggled to keep his grip tight on the gun, and for an instant he locked eyes with Mr. Parades. Jack set his jaw and squeezed his index finger tighter, pushing the trigger almost half way down.

**To be continued.**


	2. Pounding

**I've got to say thanks to all those of you who've taken the time to express your opinion about my story! This beginning is extremely confusing, don't worry, there's no supernatural happening's, it's just how messed up Jack is, and it _will _be explained. In time. The chapter song is by the Doves. Enjoy,**

**Pounding**

The noise was overwhelming. It was an incessant thumping that pounded mercilessly in Jack's ears, causing him to scrunch his face up and cover them to try and block out the sound. Mr. Parades didn't blink as he stared at the boy, an evil grin spreading across the older man's face. Jack vaguely wondered why the thumping wasn't affecting his foster father, before realizing the reason he wasn't reacting was because he couldn't hear it. The thumping was Jack's heartbeat... or his head about to explode he wasn't quite sure.

Suddenly the thumping was replaced by a shrill ringing sound, and Jack found himself lying outside in the backyard, curled up in a ball. He knew he was injured but for some reason, he wasn't in any pain at all. He stood up slowly, testing his strength, and walked carefully over to the fence, entering the front yard. It all seemed so surreal, the sky was white, and everything else seemed to be giving off a grey tint. Jack felt as if he were in a black and white video.

The noise of a car rolling up behind him caused Jack to whip around, stepping back out of the way just in time as the car sped by. His feet began pounding against the pavement; he had to stop the car before it was too late. Just as he was close enough to almost reach out and touch the bumper, Jack's foot snagged on a crack in the jagged road and he fell on his face. That was when he felt the pain of his previous injuries.

The familiar feeling of nausea rising in his stomach surfaced, and Jack rolled onto his knees just as a stream of vomit rushed out of his mouth and nose, causing him to choke and gasp for air.

When he felt a gentle hand on his back, Jack's eyes slammed open.

At first he couldn't make out anything, and he figured he was just in his bed, and the hand belonged to his foster mother, Mrs. Parades. She usually tried to do the right thing, and even though she normally didn't succeed, without her Jack had no idea what would happen to him. When his vision cleared and his breathing slowed down ever so slightly, Jack realized he was on the floor, and not his bed. A pile of his vomit was lying in front of him, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he felt his throat close up and gag. He had to wait until the room stopped spinning before he could figure out why he was on the floor.

Eyes still squeezed shut, Jack shifted into a sitting position and let his head fall into his lap, to wait until he could see clearly again.

Mr. Parades would be mad that he'd puked on the floor. Jack's grip on his tattered jeans tightened, as he thought of what his foster father might do, and unintentionally, the boy let out a small whimper. All of a sudden, someone else was speaking.

"Sweetie, are you okay?"

All thoughts of dizziness forgotten, Jack's head shot up, and spun around frantically in search of the voice. As he did so, he crawled hurriedly towards the corner, slipping in the vomit, falling, and finally backing himself against the wall. Fuck. This wasn't his room, this wasn't his house, that wasn't Mrs. Parade's voice, and the old lady advancing towards him certainly wasn't Mrs. Parades.

Maybe if Jack was thinking straight he would've seen the look of concern on the old woman's face, but at the moment all the kid could think about was trying to get himself to breathe. Jack knew he was out of control, in his panic he was shaking like mad, sweating bullets and gripping his fists together so tight he wouldn't be surprised if he drew blood. He vaguely heard a voice, then someone scream, but he couldn't think about that right now. He needed his puffer. Suddenly he was on his hands and knees as his breathing began to speed up. All he wanted was one breath of air, he didn't know where he was, what was happening, or why he couldn't breathe, he just knew that if he didn't get air soon he was going to explode.

Jack clutched at his chest and prepared himself to take a deep breath. At first it hardly made a difference, and his quick, pathetic gasps for air just came out raspier, but after a few tries, they began to slow down, until each gasp was about two seconds long, and incredibly hoarse and raspy. Finally, Jack could feel some air entering his lungs, but he still couldn't breathe normally. There was no time in between each gasp to let any air out, and as a result, Jack's eyes rolled back in his head until he passed out, when his oxygen starved body couldn't take it anymore.

Ever since he could remember, Jack had always used his ears instead of his eyes to figure things out. He liked the dark much more then the light, because he was harder to find in the dark. It was because of this that Jack had learned to pick up on any small noises, for instance, he could tell whether whoever was walking up the stairs was angry or not by the sound of their footsteps, or which car was pulling into the driveway, etc.

Right now, Jack could here many different sounds, like, a steady beeping, clashing footsteps and voices (some more urgent then others), an irregular tapping, (it probably came from a sneaker), the ticking of a clock, many ringing phones, and a soft buzzing sound. It didn't take Jack to long to assess these sounds and figure out where he was.

"Ma, can we go? We don't even know this kid; he's in good hands now." Came an impatient voice. Even with his eyes closed, (and he planned on keeping it that way) Jack could tell that this person was black, and probably around 16 years of age.

"You know I'm not going to leave him Jerry, why don't you call Bobby and have him come pick you up." An older woman replied. The name Bobby seemed really familiar to Jack, but he just couldn't place it. He didn't even know why he was in a hospital, or who these people were, and he didn't want to risk letting them know he was awake by opening his eyes.

"Bobby's not back yet." The teen said.

"Well have you tried calling since we got here?" The woman replied.

"No…"

"Then how do you know he's not back yet?" She asked, "Besides, we should let Angel know we're okay. Go on Jerry, there's a payphone in the lobby I think." Jack heard a chair scrape backwards, followed by footsteps fading away, and a door opening then swinging shut. A few minutes passed and the door opened again.

"Ma there's a cop here that wants to speak with yah. He says he can see you in that room." The teenager spoke to the old woman. It was all Jack could do to keep his eyes shut, because the second whoever it was spoke, he remembered everything. The kid was saying something else about waiting for Bobby out front, but Jack was hardly listening. He was concentrating on keeping calm, and hoping nobody would notice his white knuckled grip on the sheets.

Once he was sure the room was empty, Jack opened his eyes and took three deep breaths. Now he remembered where he'd heard the name Bobby, it was the person that'd found him after he ran away. The old lady must be his mom, and he had no idea who the other kid was. Damn, he should've found a better place to sleep! The lady had come after all, and had probably found him and brought him home. Although everything up until he'd fallen asleep now made sense, Jack still had no idea why he was in the hospital. Fuck. There was a cop. He had to get out of here.

Jack groaned and clutched his messy hair tightly, he felt like his head wasn't attached to the rest of his body, and someone was spinning it out of control just to torture him. All he had to do was sneak out of his room and leave. Nobody was going to stop him anyway, nobody cared, he just had to make sure the cop didn't spot him.

As if in a daze, Jack threw the covers off and began searching for his clothes, relieved there was no IV he had to rip out of his arm. He would need them (the clothes), when this was all over, because people wearing nothing but a hospital gown tended to stick out. After searching for a few minutes, Jack began to get anxious, it had been at least 10 minutes since the old woman and the cop had left, and Jack was pretty sure they didn't have much to talk about. The officer would be back soon. Jack paused and gazed at the door, he was tempted to just forget the clothes and bolt, but he knew it had to be at least minus twenty outside, he wouldn't last long.

Jack could almost feel his heart rate speed up, as he ripped open the small closet and began opening the drawers, his hands slippery with sweat. Finally, Jack breathed a deep sigh and closed his eyes in relief, he'd found his clothes bundled in the bottom drawer. Without hesitation, he pulled on his pants and shoes frantically, stuffed his socks in a pocket (he would worry about them later), yanked the hospital gown off and threw on his baggy black t-shirt. Just as he was about to pull the hoodie on over top, Jack froze. He could hear someone opening the door.

Luckily, the closet door was blocking the view of him from the door, and he was able to slip behind it without making a noise.

"Thank you for your patience Mrs. Mercer." Came a deep, male voice. "If you could have someone give me a call when he wakes up that'd be great."

Jack was confused, had they not noticed the bed was empty? Cautiously, he peered around the corner of the closet, and realized it was because Mrs. Mercer, the old woman, had her back to the door facing outwards, and the police officer was probably just around the corner, because he couldn't see him.

"Good day officer." Mrs. Mercer spoke. Jack pulled his head back just in time as the woman turned around, and held his breath, pressing himself against the back of the half open closet. He was screwed. He could hear Mrs. Mercer take about three steps forward, and then came a silence filled with the noise of the hospital, followed immediately by brisk, retreating footsteps.

It was now or never, Jack thought as he gathered up his courage and made a run for it. He practically sprinted to the door, sliding to a stop to check frantically where the exit was, and where Mrs. Mercer had gone. As he peered around the corner of the door he took in all the information he could. The old woman was walking down the tight hallway to the right, there was a nurse almost directly in front of him facing the wall and organizing a chart, and there was a sign that said "Stairs", to his left.

Before he could re think his plan, Jack sucked in a deep breath and stole out of the room, running silently towards the door to his left. Just as he swung the door open he heard the nurse behind him yell, but at this point he didn't care, he was already halfway down the flight of stairs. After descending 3 floors, Jack reached the bottom, and skidded to a stop. There was one door to his left, and one to his right. Jack picked the door that had a sign that read "Lobby", figuring it would lead him outside faster.

Jack felt like he was in a cheesy suspense movie, and that any second he would hear some intense chase music. That didn't happen though, because as Jack walked shakily through the crowded lobby with his heart in his throat, all he could hear was his heart hammering against his chest. He kept his head down and avoided bumping into anybody, which is why he didn't notice the cop that was having a conversation with the lady behind the counter at first.

When Jack was about halfway across the lobby, he stopped and slowly turned his head towards the main desk.

He saw the officer turning to face to the side as if it was in slow motion, but he couldn't move. He just stood there frozen, unable to move as the two made eye contact. It only lasted a couple seconds though, because when the second the cop broke eye contact to say something to the woman behind the desk, Jack turned and bolted for the swinging doors as fast as he could. He swore under his breath when he heard the officer shout at him, and increased his speed.

Without slowing down, Jack pushed through the doors and checked to see if the cop was behind him just before he ran full tilt into someone standing in the entrance way. As Jack stumbled backwards into the wall, he looked into the kid's eyes, and whispered the word, please, before pushing past him and diving behind the closest parked car there was.

He couched down as low as possible, and positioned himself behind the wheels. He'd learned that it was much easier to find someone when they were hiding in between the wheels. Jack's hands were shaking violently, whether out of fear or need for a smoke, he didn't know, he just knew that he was done.

Once again, he had to rely completely on his hearing, because there was no way he was going to risk glancing past the car to the doors. He grimaced when he heard the inevitable sound of the doors swinging open, and then the gruff voice of the cop, speaking with the kid Jack had bumped into.

"Did you see a little boy run out here?"

"Oh yeah," The kid replied cheerfully, "Skinny little white boy, bout yaigh high?" Jack hugged his knees as his last hope blew up in flames.

"Well where'd he go?" The cop asked impatiently.

"Calm down, calm down, he ran off that way." Jack shut his eyes and braced himself. It was all over. Did they even send thirteen year olds to jail? What would happen to him? The thing Jack was terrified of the most, was the thought of having to face...

"Hey kid..." Jack's thoughts were interrupted. "So would you like to tell me why you were runnin from that cop?"

Jack just stared in awe, there was no cop, no handcuffs, nothing.

"Aw man, Ma's gonna freak! Shit kid, you gotta be no more then what, 12 right?"

"Thirteen!" Jack corrected indignantly, glaring as the other kid smirked. And then, realization hit him, now he knew where he'd heard this voice before.

"Why were you in my hospital room?" Jack demanded.

"You know when the cop realizes you ain't where I said you went, he's gonna come back here and I bet he'd gonna be pissed." The guy replied and just like that, Jack's momentarily forgotten fears were back, full force. He stood abruptly and began to back away, staring wide eyed at the older kid, what was his name? It was definitely something with a J.

Jack blinked and turned on his heal, taking off in the opposite direction before the guy had a chance to react. He was sprinting threw the parking lot, trying to stay low in case the police could see him, and at the same time trying to distance himself from the other kid.

As Jack was about to run across a lane of the lot, he caught a glance of a car in his peripheral vision. In an attempt to avoid getting hit, Jack slammed on the brakes, which only caused him to slip on an ice patch and fall... painfully.

Great. He'd fallen straight on his tailbone. It's not like the pain Jack was feeling amounted to an once of what he'd felt in the past, but at the moment it was all he could think about.

Until he heard a car door slam.

Jack lowered the gun, the shot still ringing in his ears. He couldn't stop staring, there was so much blood, everything was red. His whole body was frozen, and it was all Jack could do to keep himself standing. The gun slipped out of his grasp and dropped to the gound. He couldn't hear the sound it made as it hit the tile foor, and he couldn't hear himself screaming as he brought his hands over his ears to block out the incessant pounding. He screamed louder, trying to make out a sound over the thumping, but there was nothing he could do. All he heard was pounding.

**to be continued.**

**Quick note. I don't have asthma, so I don't know what it feels like to have an asthma attack. Sorry if I got it wrong. See you soon!**

**-pen**


	3. Cold

**Thank you so much to all those who reviewed, it inspired me to update. Sorry it took long, I was stuck and busy. I'll try to get the next one sooner.**

**I give you chapter two.**

A pure, blinding white assaulted Jack's eyes, making it impossible to see. He squinted and blinked a few times to try to gain some sort of vision, but from the position he was in, nothing was clear. From the sound of it, he was still in the parking lot. He could hear the ear splitting wail of an ambulance as it approached its destination, the sound of tires splashing through melting snow as they passed by behind him, and heavy footsteps crunching in the ice as they moved slowly and cautiously towards him.

Jack arched his back and shivered when he felt a cold, icy water seep through his sweater, causing it to cling to his back, as if it's mission was to seep through his frigid skin. Determinedly, he placed his arms behind him to push himself up, but yelped and whipped them back when his bare hands were plunged into freezing cold water. This action caused him to slip down onto his back completely with a splash, and soak his already dripping wet sweater.

All of a sudden, somebody grabbed Jack's upper arm roughly, to lift him out of the water. Taken by surprise, Jack let out a horrible cry of pain that caused the person to release him in shock. For the third time, Jack went tumbling backwards into the icy water. It felt as if a million tiny knives were plunging themselves into Jack's body, leaving behind a sense so frigid and piercing that he could feel himself going numb. Slowly, Jack rolled onto his knees and crawled out of the puddle in the parking lot to escape the cold.

Knowing there was still someone behind him, Jack turned to see who it was. His eyebrows knitted together when he recognized that it was the guy from last night. Jack tried to sputter out a few words, but found his teeth were chattering too violently against each other to get anything out.

"Bobby!"

Jack whipped his ahead around when he heard another voice coming from the right. The man that had been chasing him minutes before was jogging along the row of cars at a calm speed.

"Jerry… what the hell is going on?" Bobby asked the man. Great, Jack thought, these two knew each other. Jerry was out of breath from chasing Jack through the parking lot, and he paused as he took a few gasps.

"We have to get him back to the hospital Bobby, look at him. He's gonna get hypothermia!" Jerry spoke softly to Bobby.

"NO!" Jack cried out, panicked from hearing the word hospital.

Both men looked at the human icicle as if they had forgotten that he could talk.

"Nnno." He repeated through his chattering teeth, trying to convince the two that he was okay. "I c..can't..I d..don't wa..nt t..to go b….b..ack I..I'm fine."

"Yeah you sound pretty _fine_ to me." Bobby answered sarcastically. "Cum'on, Jerry's right you're going back to the hospital." With that, Bobby made a move forward to lift Jack up.

"NO!!" Jack shrieked, for the third time. He knew he was defenceless from the cold, but he couldn't let these two people take him back.

"P..please." He said more softly. Bobby paused and looked at Jerry, who shrugged his shoulders in confusion.

"Maybe we should take him home, we can call ma on our way." Jerry whispered. Bobby rolled his eyes and turned back towards Jack.

"Look kid, I don't know why the hell you don't want to go back to the hospital, but I'm sorry. You're gonna need to."

Jack's heart dropped as he mustered the most pathetic, pleading stare he could and directed it towards Bobby. This was it, in desperate measures he was going to lower himself to this level. Fuck, he hated feeling so weak. He was pathetic, but he knew there was no way he could go back to the hospital. There were probably dozens of cops waiting for him there, after what he had done.

After looking back and forth between Jerry and Bobby for what seemed like forever, Bobby threw up his hands in despair.

"Jesus kid! If you're gonna look at me like that just get your ass in the car already."

Jack exhaled the breath that he'd been holding in, and shuffled slowly to his feet, having some difficulty because his entire body was shaking so badly. Once he reached the open back door, he lifted himself into Bobby's car and crawled in. Bobby and Jerry were still outside, having a conversation, or from what Jack could see, an argument. He wished they would just get in the car before he died of cold. Or maybe that wouldn't be so horrible.

Finally, Bobby got into the front seat while Jerry walked around to the other side. Jack fought to keep his eyes open as the car began to move, he couldn't afford to let his guard down now.

The ride was surprisingly short, and before he knew it, Jack found himself being guided into a house. Jack didn't look anywhere but the floor as he walked, even when he heard an unfamiliar male voice join in the conversation with Bobby and Jerry.

"Angel take him upstairs and get him some fucking warm clothes, I am not in the mood." Bobby shouted harshly. Without moving his head an inch, Jack lifted his eyes to see who Angel was through his bangs. Had the situation been any different, Jack would've laughed. This guy definitely did not look like an Angel. It reminded him of in the movies, when there was always some huge bad tempered guy named Slim, or Skinny Joe or something.

The angry looking teenager stomped past Jack and up the stairs, without even glancing at him, and making as much noise as he could, as if to prove how mad he was. Jack took a tentative step up the stairs, assuming he was supposed to follow.

If it had not been for his dire need of warm clothes, Jack would've taken this as an opportunity to bolt, but seeing as he was still shaking from the cold, Jack sighed and snuck up the remainder of the stairs, cringing every time one creaked.

When Jack reached the landing, he was beckoned into a room by Angel and stood uncomfortably in the doorway. The room was giving of a strange blue light, which made his head begin to throb.

"Take your shirt off." Angel commanded without turning around. Jack felt his heart beat speed up and his eyes grow wide, as a lump began to form in his chest. The lump was very slowly filling his lungs, and making its way towards his throat as Jack realized why he was really here. He would never learn would he, why did he think this would be different? Why had he trusted these guys out of all people? Because, Jack didn't trust people.

When Jack glanced up, Angel was now staring at him with expectation, and holding a sweater in his hands. Instantly, relief swept over Jack when he remembered the _reason _he was here. The lump in his throat all but vanished; replaced by the freezing chill he had previously been suffering from.

Nonetheless, Jack hated doing this. He knew when he took off his sweater all this stranger would see is weakness. Even so, he also knew that if he didn't get the freezing heap of wet, off in the next few seconds, he was going to get hypothermia, if he hadn't already.

Jack set his jaw and stared down at the floor with all his might, as he grudgingly removed his sweater and t-shirt. Jack dropped the articles of clothing onto the ground and glared at Angel directly in the eye, daring him to say something. Without breaking eye contact, he wrapped his arms around his waist and continued on shaking.

Jack could see shock mixed with pity as he looked into Angel's eyes, which disappeared quickly. Angel looked away and handed over the clothes.

"What did you say your name was?" Angel asked.

Shit. Jack didn't know which name he had used earlier. If he told this guy the wrong one and he went and talked to the other two Jack was screwed.

"I didn't." He settled on replying. Now he was about to figure out if he had just made a big mistake, some people don't like a smartass. Jack was relieved when all Angel did was raise an eyebrow.

"The bathroom's down the hall and to the right." He said after tossing Jack a baggy pair of sweatpants.

Hesitantly, Jack turned and wondered into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Jack gripped the counter in front of him with white knuckles and slowly lifted his head to gaze into the mirror. He never did like looking in mirrors, and at the moment all he wanted to do was smash the damn thing down. His wild hair was a greasy mess, hanging off his head and into his unnaturally pale face. Jack lifted a shaking hand to brush his bangs to the side and gazed into his red rimmed blood shot eyes, the cold wasn't the only reason he was shaking. Dejectedly, he shut his eyes firmly and began to change into the warm, comfortable clothes.

Cautiously, Jack pushed the door open and began to make his way down the hall towards the stairs. Angry voices floated up through the draftee house, bouncing against the walls furiously and causing Jack to pause, not sure if he wanted to venture down.

"Ma, I told you, he wouldn't come back to the fucking hospital!" Bobby's familiar voice shouted,

"Language Bobby!" an old woman scolded, probably the same one from the hospital. There was a pause, and then Jack heard a loud thump from his spot on the stairs which was followed by the sound of a hockey game being turned on to the TV.

"You said he had fallen into a puddle in this weather? Did you even _think_ of his health? He had just ran away from the hospital, the poor boy could've caught hypothermia." The woman spoke calmly. Jack hated when people talked about him.

"There has to be a reason he ran away from the hospital Ma." Somebody else chipped in.

"Yes Jerry, there is. He ran away from home." The old woman… Mrs. Mercer replied. Shit. Jack fell back against the wall across from the stairs and slid down until he was on the floor, he couldn't take this anymore. She knew; this was it; the police were going to be here any minute.

"Noooo..." Jack moaned, while pressing his hands flat against his temples and shutting his eyes tightly.

Just as Jack found his thoughts heading into a place he didn't want to go, a concerned voice snapped him back to reality.

"Yo kid… are you okay?" Angel asked. Jack slid his hands over his eyes, pressing down hard, rubbing them together and bringing them up to brush the hair out of his face. He looked up at the large African American, who was standing awkwardly in the hallway, unsure of what to do and nodded.

"Wanna stop fucking staring at me like I'm some sort of unstable creature?" Jack snapped at Angel after a few moments. Jack hated when people stared at him, he didn't need it. Angel just stood there, a smirk spreading across his face.

"Woah there!" He laughed, "You'd better not let Ma hear you talking like that you little punk. Now get downstairs. Let someone into our house and this is the kindness he shows us?" Angel mumbled while turning and walking back off towards his room.

Jack decided not to dwell on the fact that Angel had just called who he assumed to be Mrs. Mercer Ma, and began to make his way down the creaky steps, trying to be as quiet as possible. The yelling in the other room was now replaced with hushed voices, mumbling together at a low rumble. Even that was hard to hear, because it was drowned out by the dead, constant echo of an old grandfather clock which was magnified in Jack's ears as it swung back and forth…back and forth…echoing……

"HEY!"

Jack jumped into the air and drew a sharp breath, blinking and taking his focus off the grandfather clock. All of a sudden everything was clear again, the clashing of pots and pans in a distant room, blaring rap music from upstairs (much to Jack's disgust), and the sound of an obnoxious commercial echoing off the television. Bobby was standing in front of him, giving him the strangest look.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked.

Jack released his grip on the railing and narrowed his eyes at Bobby, seething with anger.

"It's none of your god damn business what the hell is wrong with me!" He shouted. He knew he was taking a huge chance with this monster of a guy, but he had to prove that he wasn't just some pathetic abused kid that had stumbled off the streets. Although wasn't that the truth.

For about a second Bobby paused, looking genuinely shocked, but he recovered quickly.

"Firstly, you are standing in my house, wearing my brother's clothes. Secondly, you ran away from the hospital that my Mother took you to, and from my _other _brother, that covered for you while you were getting chased down by a cop. Technically, right this moment I could be harbouring a dangerous fugitive, which could get my ass thrown back in jail. So I think that maybe, just maybe it _is _my business what the hell is wrong with you." Bobby finished sarcastically.

Jack rolled his eyes, and flicked his hair out of his face, man this guy liked to hear his own voice.

"It's not like I'm here voluntarily." Jack retorted, watching in anticipation as Bobby rolled his eyes in return and sighed.

"Whatever… _Jack._" Bobby sneered, adding emphasis on his name. "Ma has dinner ready, get your ass off the stairs and come get some food."

Jack groaned inwardly, god Bobby was making this hard. His stomach was so empty he felt utterly deflated, but he couldn't eat dinner with these people, they knew what he had done! Bobby calling him by his real name instead of Ryan was proof of that.

"No I'm tired I'm going to bed." Jack stated, ignoring the knowing look that Bobby gave him.

"What kind of fairy goes to bed at 7:00?" He asked with a wicked grin.

Nearly 10 minutes later, Jack was lying flat on his back in a comfortable bed, trying to ignore his protesting stomach and fight off the inevitability of sleep.

It would be so easy to slip out the tiny window of this cramped room, but Jack figured that he'd wait until everyone had gone to sleep so he could steal some food. His habit for stealing was usually what got him in trouble at foster homes.

After awhile, Jack rested his eyes shut, just to give them a break until everyone was asleep.

He wrapped his arms around his waist tightly, as thoughts of the look on Mr. Parade's face began to surface on his mind. At first it had registered shock, but as Jack continued screaming, a sickening grin began to slide onto his foster father's face. Jack couldn't do anything but stand there shaking and screaming violently, trying to block out his shouts by covering his ears. The slick black pistol slid from Jack's quivering fingers and fell onto the greasy carpet. The sound of the gun shot Jack had just fired echoed through the stuffy house and in the murky air. Fuck. What had he done?

"Jack." Mr. Parades spoke softly, still sporting that twisted grin. "You just shot my wife."

**-To be continued**

**-pen**


	4. No Escape

**Chapter 4: No Escape**

here we go again.

"I am drifting away

farther every day

soon I'll have nothing to say

I'll be to far away"

-Patrick Watson

It was weird that as Jack was dreaming, he knew that he was dreaming, in his dream, but there was nothing he could do to stop the nightmare. He'd never told anyone about them, not even his best friend, but it was usually the same each night.

Tonight it was no different, Jack found himself chasing the rusted green car down the street, coming so close to touching it but then falling at the last second.

Next thing he knew, the dream changed and he was staring into the dead, lifeless eyes of his foster mother, the woman he had murdered.

Jack didn't have time to stay with Mrs. Parades in his foster home though. As he ripped his eyes away from the lifeless figure, a giant shadow began to loom closer to him, coming up from a foreboding staircase. The footsteps crashed against the hollow wood, becoming closer and closer with each second. Jack lifted his petrified body from the floor and tried to sprint to the doorway, but found the task impossible, moving his legs was like trying to move a sac of bricks with each step, he felt like he was made out of lead. Jack froze as he found himself emerged in a dark shadow, only just noticing the absence of heavy footsteps.

Just as Jack was bracing himself for impact, a loud knock from the land of reality caused him to wake up. His eyes slammed open as he stared straight ahead and clenched his jaw tightly, breathing short quick gasps through his nose and balling up half of his sheets in his fists.

"Jack calm down, just breath." Someone spoke firmly. "Jerry! Get Ma!"

Jack's breathing became more laboured as he tried to receive too much air through his nose, while panicking. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder and cool plastic press against his lips.

"Jack! Listen to me; you have to open your mouth alright hunny? You have to breathe for us okay?"

Jack just squeezed his eyes shut firmly and began to shake his head back and forth violently, wanting it to end. All of it. Without warning, something in his throat hitched and his mouth sputtered open as he shot upright in the bed and drew several deep, painfully ragged breaths. He felt someone open his hand, and guide it up towards his mouth as he fought back tears. Without even realizing it, he shut his mouth around the puffer and took several deep breaths until he calmed down.

"So is this what you do every morning then?" Someone asked playfully. Jack jumped a bit and looked around the room as if he didn't know there were people there. He pushed himself back against the headboard and lowered the puffer from his mouth, shaking slightly.

Mrs. Mercer and Bobby were crowded beside his bead, while Jerry stood near the window looking concerned, and Angel hovered in the doorway as if he didn't know what to do.

Jack coughed loudly and looked down, his eyes filled with embarrassment. That was the second asthma attack he'd had in front of these people.

"Now that he's okay… Bobby I need a ride to school." Angel spoke up from the doorway.

"For the life of Christ, at least pretend that you care Angel!' Jerry scolded.

"I do care, but judging by the look on the kid's face I'd say he doesn't feel like bein' crowded right now Jer." Angel shot back.

"If you can shut up long enough to get your black ass to the car I'll drive you to school for god's sakes!" Bobby yelled, silencing Angel.

Once Bobby, Angel and Jerry were out of the room, Evelyn, who had been silent this entire time, turned to Jack. Jack cringed and shrunk back, shit, when had he fallen asleep? Why weren't the cops here yet?

"Jack, are you alright?" Evelyn spoke softly, offering a nice change from the harsh voices of the others. Jack simply nodded.

"Are you sure?" She asked again, "That was a pretty rough attack. How often do you have them?"

Jack rolled his eyes, although this woman did sound genuinely concerned, he'd give it 3 hours tops before he was thrown back onto the streets… or into a cold cell.

"All the time. Of course it doesn't help when someone confiscates your puffer because you _walked _the wrong way, heaven forbid." Jack answered sarcastically, waiting to be yelled at for talking back to an elder. Strangely, Mrs. Mercer did not seem to be phased by the comment.

"Were you having a nightmare Jack?" She continued. Jack shuddered inwardly as the comment reminded him of his dream, but shrugged it off quickly.

"No." He stated.

"You know, no one cares how tough you look Jack, it's alright if you want to tell me." Mrs. Mercer spoke patiently. It wasn't mockingly, it wasn't sternly and it wasn't patronisingly, but for some reason it pissed Jack off. He looked at her straight in the eye for the first time, and narrowed his eyes menacingly.

"That's where you're wrong Mrs. Mercer."

Without breaking eye contact, Mrs. Mercer smiled warmly.

"Please call me Evelyn." She said.

Jack looked back down at his sheets, completely puzzled. She hadn't even asked why he was here, or told him to leave! Mrs… Evelyn stood up from the edge of Jack's bed and began to make her way to the door. Jack simply sat there like an idiot and stared after her.

"Wait!" He called.

_What the hell was he doing?_

"You didn't even ask… I could be a serial killer! I could be casing the house… I… I could be a murderer…" He stuttered.

_Why did he just say that?_

Evelyn turned back towards Jack, and looked at him. "Are you?" She asked. Jack just stared back with his mouth agape.

"No…" He spoke hesitantly, immediately washed over with guilt.

"Well alright then." Evelyn replied with a smile before turning and walking out the door, leaving Jack sitting dumfounded on the bed.

The only conclusion Jack could come to was that they didn't know. How could they know? Suddenly Jack felt very uncomfortable being here. He didn't even know who these people were, and for god knows what reason had just accepted their help and slept in their house. It wasn't too often that Jack accepted people's help, he was much too stubborn, which is just one more reason he got in trouble so much. Jack wondered how far one would be able to push these people before they finally snapped. He was surprised they hadn't already, he had puked on their floor, wasted their entire day, soaked their car, and he was incredibly rude to them. Normally it would just take one of those things to earn a beating.

Jack shifted his gaze from the empty doorway and swung his legs out of bed to sit at the edge and stare out the window. He wasn't stupid, he knew not every person in the world was abusive, but these people hadn't even yelled at him yet, they hadn't even acknowledged that he'd even done anything wrong.

Shakily, Jack brought his hands up to his head and ran them over his sweaty face and hair, finally coming to rest his elbows on his knees and lay his face in his palms. He didn't want to think about this right now, he didn't want to analyse the situation and he didn't want to think about what he was going to do. All Jack wanted to feel was numb. Fuck he needed a hit.

Jack knew that it was only a matter of time before someone noticed what was wrong with him. His eyes were probably bloodshot and he knew he was shaking, which he couldn't blame on falling in a frigid puddle anymore. Jack groaned, moved his hands back to his hair and held on tightly, squeezing his eyes shut.

_Think about something else, anything._

Slowly, as if in a daze, Jack slid off the bed limply until he was sitting on the worn out floor. He rested his head back against the mattress, and focused his gaze on the wall in front of him, staring intently at a small crack until he had succeeded in zoning himself out to the point where he couldn't hear, see, smell, or feel anything.

His breathing became slow and deliberate, quite the contrast to how he was when he woke up. His hands hung loosely at his side while his mouth was slightly agape.

Jack didn't know how long he stayed like that, or where he was in his few moments of serenity, he just let the fogginess of his mind take control of his head as he had many times in the past. It was the only thing that kept him sane.

"JACK!"

Jack must've leapt ten feat in the air when his brain snapped to a sudden focus and his eyes cleared abruptly. When his scream ceased, and he'd cleared his mind, he finally became focused enough to realize Bobby's head was about three inches from his face.

Frantically, he scrambled backwards on to his bed until he was leaning against the wall. He wished people would stop scaring the shit out of him like this.

"The Fuck!?" He shouted hoarsely. Evelyn and Jerry stood behind Bobby, who was looking at him as if he were an alien.

"Did you not hear _anything _I just said?" Bobby asked incredulously. "For Christ's sake I've been trying to talk to you for ten minutes!"

Jack just swallowed and let his hair fall into his bloodshot eyes. He couldn't stay in this room anymore, he had to get out.

Without warning, Jack leapt off the bed and scrambled towards the door, leaving the three people standing beside his bed, unsure of what to do.

Jack didn't stop until he was out the front door, and the wind had hit his face wildly. At the moment, the vicious cold was quite the welcome change from the stuffy feeling of being trapped Jack had experienced moments earlier.

Jack was standing at the end of the driveway with his eyes closed, enjoying the cold when he sensed someone else's presence. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

"Hey man, listen don't freak out okay? I just wanna talk." Jerry spoke calmly. He was standing away from Jack, in the middle of the street, with his palms facing upwards. Great, Jack thought, they all thought he was crazy.

_Well, no kidding with the way he'd been acting._

"I'm not crazy." He mumbled, barely loud enough for Jerry to hear.

"Coulda fooled me!" Jerry exclaimed, "You're standing at the end of a driveway in the middle of winter in Detroit, with no coat or shoes!"

Jack smirked and shrugged, "Guess I've become a_cclimated_ to the cold."

Jerry's face transformed from amused to concerned in three seconds.

"Come on kid, let's go back inside, you're shaking." He urged.

Before he knew it, Jack found himself sitting at the edge of an old worn out green couch, facing Bobby and Jerry, who were both sitting across from him on another couch. He knew that the time had finally come to think of some quick, plausible lies.

"Okay Jackie boy, we're just gonna ask a few questions alright? Nothing big, we just gotta know some stuff." Bobby stated, breaking the silence.

Jack fidgeted under the glare of the two boys and concentrated on a loose thread on his sleeve. He was glad Angel wasn't here, it was bad enough with Bobby. He did however wonder why Evelyn wasn't here. From what he had gathered, he assumed this was some sort of weird foster home or something, where they took in random kids. Although these three seemed to know each other pretty well.

"Jack…" Bobby snapped his fingers in front of Jack's face, sounding frustrated.

"Will you at least _try _to listen?" He asked.

Jack looked up with a smirk.

"I'll try my best." He answered cockily.

"So when I found you, hyperventilating, which you seem to do a lot, next to a phone booth, where had you come from?" Bobby asked in a monotone voice.

Instantly, the smirk was wiped off Jack's face as he looked down, embarrassed. He didn't usually hyperventilate this often, but when one kills another human being, one tends to be a bit more strung out then usual.

He looked back up from the worn out hard wood floor to meet the expectant stares of Bobby and Jerry.

"Well?" Bobby asked impatiently. The man seemed unable to listen to silence for more then two seconds.

"Nowhere." Jack mumbled in reply. He wanted to give the least amount of information as possible.

"Cum'on kid, give us something to go with here. We took you in off the streets, to the hospital, back from the hospital…" Jerry urged, trailing off.

"Why though?" Jack asked, eager to finally figure out why random strangers would take a random kid off the streets. Jack was reminded once again of the danger he'd put himself in by trusting these people. This was Detroit. You didn't last long if you went around giving everybody you met the benefit of the doubt.

"Does it look as if we're this perfect family that's been together forever?" Jerry inquired. "We've all been where you are Jack." The man finished reasonably.

Jack had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. He highly doubted that was true.

"Think this is funny?" Bobby spoke.

Jack narrowed his eyes and glared up at Bobby, attempting to look dangerous. Regardless of what it would appear, Jack couldn't help clenching his sweaty fists nervously.

"Can I go home?" Jack asked suddenly.

"No." Bobby answered shortly.

That made Jack mad, and maybe even more nervous, if that was possible. What right did he have to tell him he couldn't leave? Just as Jack was about to tell Bobby off, the older man cut in.

"Because I know that home ain't where you're gonna be headed if we let you leave. I'm not an idiot Jack. Jesus, you gotta wake up man! How old did you say you were?"

"Almost 14." Jack mumbled after a pause.

"Well that's fucking wonderful isn't it. You're not even 14 and you're already gonna be living on the streets."

Jack shrunk back into the couch, fully aware of how angry Bobby now was. Great, he'd angered the beast, just what he needed. Nonetheless, he still couldn't help getting even more pissed off; he did _not _like getting lectured, or told he was a little kid. He was far from it.

"You're not gonna last a day, you know that right kid?" Bobby continued on angrily.

"Hey!" Jerry cut in, "Calm down Bobby." Then he turned to Jack, and tried to catch his eye.

"Ma wanted me to tell you that she called in, and has requested to be your new social worker, so if anything ever happens they're gonna call us. Also, the hospital phoned, and they weren't happy that we drove you off without permission, but you don't need to be re-admitted. All we gotta do is go back and fill out some paperwork." Jerry explained.

Jack's heart sank. Why the hell had he let himself fall asleep last night? Despite the fact that he knew he was screwed, Jack found that at this point, he didn't even care. Jail would probably be better then where he'd come from anyway.

"Once we've finished filling out the paperwork," Jerry continued, "All we'll have to do is check in with the police… you can't just run away Jack… and then we'll have to send you back home. Unless you'd like to tell us a reason we shouldn't…"

What was this? Were they trying to get him to confess or something? A lump rose in his throat as he thought of what they wanted him to confess to, and it made him want to throw up. He could feel the eyes of Bobby and Jerry burning into him, trying to judge his reaction.

Bobby leaned forward.

"Why'd you run away Jack?" He asked.

"Because I fucking wanted to." Jack answered rudely.

Without taking his eyes off of him, Bobby replied coldly.

"Fine then Jack, as soon as we're done eating breakfast we'll all head over to the hospital won't we."

Jack wiped his sweaty hands on his pants and swallowed the lump in his throat as Jerry and Bobby both began to make their way into the kitchen.

Half an hour later, Jack found himself stuck in the back of a car with Angel, Jerry and Bobby, heading to the last place he wanted to go. Well, the second last place. A heavy silence drifted through the car until Angel reached over from the passenger seat and flicked the radio on. He sat there switching channels for what seemed like forever until Bobby slapped his hand away in annoyance and told him to cut it the fuck out. This action earned him a silent thank you from Jack.

With every second that passed, Jack became increasingly more agitated and nervous, and when the hospital finally came into view, he was practically shaking.

"So Bobby, what's the deal?" Angel's voice cut into the silence.

"I dunno Ang… what is the deal?" Bobby replied sharply.

"Why were you meeting Kas?" He insisted.

"I'd like to know that too…" Jerry added into the conversation.

"It's nothing that concerns you two dumbasses." Bobby answered.

"Whatever man, just thought after we're done with the kid that was the plan. OH, and one more thing… Why the _hell_ were you hanging out with Charlie?!" Angel spoke, getting louder and louder with each word.

As their argument went on, the hospital grew closer, and Jack knew it was time he took action. He waited until the beat up car had stopped at a stop light before flinging open the door and leaping out. His worn out running shoes sunk into a pit of slush and his knees buckled in surprise from the hole in the pavement. He frantically pushed himself up and threw himself forward, trying to escape.

After running blindly towards the shops on the opposite side of the hospital, Jack found his body getting tackled harshly into the wall. He cried out in pain and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt someone pinning him down.

"I'm not going back!" He yelled, twisting his sore body to escape from his captor. He wasn't sure if he meant the hospital or his foster home.

"Listen to me!" Bobby growled. "You're coming to the hospital right now, whether you like it or not, I really don't give a shit."

With that, Bobby took Jack by the collar and practically dragged him towards the hospital like a little kid.

It took thirty minutes to fill out the paperwork, and then another twenty to get lectured from the police. Jack just sort of drifted through the process blindly, not understanding at all what was going on. He hadn't been handcuffed and thrown in jail, or brought to the police station, no one had even mentioned what he'd done.

No one knew.

Jack wasn't sure if he should feel happy or not, the guilt was too overwhelming. And he had no clue what was going to happen to him.

Until he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned around to stare into the eyes of the last man in the world he wanted to see.

**-To be continued.**

**-Pen**


	5. Blackout

**NOT UPDATED YET, (I was just going through and fixing things in my stories cause I haven't looked at them in forever. I don't remember where I was going with this however, and would not be sure how to finish it, ahhhh I'm a terrible person)**

* * *

**Wow, okay before I begin I sincerely want to apologize for not updating there's no excuse, sorry guys. I changed emails so didn't get the reminder from the reviews, but I was reading them and started to feel very guilty, so here after a long wait, is chapter 5.**

**I'll give you a short summary in case someone returns and doesn't feel like re-reading. So Jack runs away from his home because he accidentally shot his foster mother, is found by Bobby, taken to the mercers, has an asthma attack, runs away from the cops at the hospital, aaaand has just been brought to the hospital again and has figured out that no one knows that he killed someone.**

**The Song is Blackout by Muse. Find it on youtube if you wanna listen.**

**...**

"Thank God you're okay Jack! I've been looking for you everywhere!"

At that moment Jack's heart sank down to his toes as he suppressed a shudder and the desire to bolt right then and there. He had to remember that there was a cop standing right next to him. Instead he lowered his head to the ground and tried to stop himself from trembling.

"Well get up then." Mr. Parades spoke cheerfully, "I'm taking you home now."

Of course nobody would be able to hear the menace in those words save Jack, yet instead of listening a sudden resolve overtook him. He knew that Mr. Parades couldn't lay a hand on him while there was a cop in the room, and he figured if he said something about the abuse he wouldn't have to go back to the house.

"I'm not going anywhere with you." Jack mumbled, still staring at the floor. The ticking of the clock in the solitary room seemed muffled and ten times too loud in his ears.

"Oh?" Mr. Parades asked as his voice took on a sinister note, "But your foster mother has been really worried Jack, you wouldn't want to cause her any harm would you?" He paused as he waited for Jack's head to snap up and his eyes to widen. "One could even call it… murder."

Jack began shaking his head back and forth slightly as he closed his eyes and attempted to stop his mind from spinning. Vaguely he could hear the cop beside him shifting his weight and Bobby who had been in the corner move in closer.

There was no reply Jack could let spill from his lips.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Bobby spat at Mr. Parades.

In reply, the man cocked his head to the side and gave Bobby a curious look.

"I ought to thank you…" He started slowly, "For finding Jack here so soon. God knows what would've happened if you hadn't." He then turned towards Jack and sent him a message through his eyes that was all to clear.

"Come on now Jack, your mother is waiting."

With that, he turned on his heel and headed out the door, knowing that Jack had no choice but to follow him.

He was going to throw up. Even as he walked, Jack could feel the sick bile rising in his throat as he struggled to move each foot forward and follow his foster father, finding it harder with every step. What could he do though? There was no more running, no more trying to escape what he had done; all that Jack could think was that he deserved the punishment that he was going to get when he got to the house. He decided he wasn't even going to fight. He let out the breath he'd been holding and continued walking forward, feeling the familiar prickle of tears welling up in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. As he fought against the haze in his mind Jack mentally scoffed. How could crying possibly help his situation?

Jack hardly had the energy to cry out in pain when he felt a hand grab his upper arm, even if it was gentle, and all he could muster was a faint whimper, but he wasn't even sure if the sound came from the pain. A part of him hoped that the cop had figured it out, and that he wouldn't let Jack go back to the house, even if it meant Mr. Parades would let slip what he'd done. When he turned around however, it was Bobby who was pulling his hand back in apology.

"Jesus, sorry kid." He murmured.

Jack noticed, as he stared up at the man with dead, hardened eyes that he had a funny look on his face. Who was he to be concerned about him? Bobby had already proven that he didn't care about his fate when he'd dragged him to the hospital.

Bobby continued staring at the kid with concern however, his eyebrows pulled together tightly.

"I'm going to find out what's going on here Jack." He stated simply before turning and walking away, leaving the boy standing in the hall in confusion, tricked for only a moment from the mask he had plastered on his face. Was that a threat? Jack's instinctive side told him that it was, and that it should only give him the need to become more wary. Yet, there was still a part of him that told him that it was a promise.

When he finally reached the car, Jack got into the back seat, and shut the door as quietly as possible. As the car rolled closer to the house, Jack found it increasingly difficult to suppress the fear that was bubbling into action inside his chest. He closed his eyes and focused on listening to the tires rolling through the slush, and sending it crashing onto the sidewalk. One of the windows in the front was open a slight crack, and a sharp, high pitched whistling could be heard, filling the car with an icy breeze.

When these sounds stopped suddenly, Jack opened his eyes and found that they had arrived at the house already. An all consuming dread filled his entire body as he watched Mr. Parades get out of the car and walk around to his door. His footsteps seemed magnified to an ear splitting pitch as they fell in the slush and made their way towards him. This was fear that Jack had not known in his entire life. It gripped at his insides and was released by the pounding of his heart as it dripped down in beads of sweat on his face and hands. Once more, he found his breath begin to falter and to come out in short gasps of air, but there was no one to help him this time.

When Mr. Parades pulled him out of the car by grabbing him under the arm, he did not cry out.

He knew he was being carried because he couldn't feel his feet moving, yet they were making steady progress towards the door of the house.

The first blow caught him off guard; the door had hardly been closed behind them.

"Stand up Jack."

After the fifth blow, he could feel the taste of copper in his mouth.

"You're not even gunna fight back Jackie?"

He didn't know how he was still conscious; he knew he hadn't been breathing for a long time now.

"Not even gunna try to escape?"

Or maybe he wasn't conscious…

"I guess you have learned something then haven't you?

He couldn't feel anything, and yet… he knew he heard someone screaming.

"No more escaping for Jackie."

...

Jack could feel through his eyelids that it was light somewhere.

He never really thought pain like this was possible. Physically, Jack figured that if someone was in this much pain, they must be dead. The only place that Jack could possibly be was in hell. He didn't want to open his eyes, because if he opened his eyes, whatever reality he was facing at the moment would come to life, whether it was hell… or something much worse.

He could feel something funny though… which was weird because he didn't think it was possible to feel anything besides the pain. Yet, he could still tell that he was lying on a bed. So he wasn't dead. Fuck.

Slowly, Jack opened one eye a slight crack, but quickly squished his face shut when he realized where he was.

"Oh god." He groaned.

He was in his old room, lying on his old bed on his back, and from the light coming through the window Jack knew it was morning.

As he struggled to think, a fog began to take over his mind, and he found that he could no longer concentrate.

...

A number of days must have passed in that room, how many Jack had no idea.

He knew he wouldn't be able to take a shower yet, so Jack decided the only thing he could do would be to take a bath. He opened the door a crack and listened, his heart once more in his throat. When he was satisfied the he heard no sound from the hall, he crept out of his room and to the top of the stairs, where he peered down into the living room cautiously.

The room was decently clean, there were no dark spots on the walls or the floor has there had been, and the furniture was all in the same place. The furniture was nice, as they weren't poor, yet clearly not overly wealthy. Mr. Parades worked at a small retail company, but Jack knew that's not how they received all their income. Mrs. Parades was a teacher, and brought in some money, but…

Jack's train of thought ended there.

He turned abruptly back to the hall and made his way to the bathroom. He had a difficult time getting into the bathtub without causing himself serious pain, as well as washing his cuts, because underneath them dark bruises protruded through his skin. When he was finished, he dried his hair and headed to the sink to brush his teeth.

He didn't look in the mirror until he was finished, but when he did he wasn't disappointed. It was pretty bad. Although at least he didn't have dried blood all over him, and his hair was clean, he wouldn't be able to go in public for awhile without raising some serious questions. After he had treated himself to a healthy dose of antibacterial cream, Jack made his way back to the hall, knowing he had to get something to eat.

A soft knock on the door caused Jack to jump and drop the last crumbs of his meal. He froze for a few seconds, listening for anymore sounds. Another knock followed, and Jack decided he would answer, seeing as it couldn't be his foster father.

"Is he here?"

Relief washed over him when he opened the door and found his best friend Ben leaning against the doorframe.

He shook his head in reply.

"We've missed you at school man." Ben spoke, staring intently into Jack's eyes. Jack just shrugged.

"I've been busy." He tried to answer, but found that it came out terribly raspy.

"Did he take your puffer again?" Ben asked.

"I lost it." Was the only reply Jack could muster.

Jack could feel Ben looking through the bruises on his face and taking in his bloodshot eyes and his trembling hands.

"I can do you one better then a puffer Jackie."

A blurry memory of words that Mr. Parades had spoken stirred in Jack's mind.

"No more escaping for Jackie."

But Jack knew that his foster father was wrong.

**-To Be Continued**

**Alright guys there you go, I do hope to finish this one day. **


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